


Effortless

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Discussions of Masturbation, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pillow Princess Linhardt von Hevring, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: For Caspar's birthday, Linhardt is willing to make an effort.Caspar is a little happier when he doesn't.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	Effortless

**Author's Note:**

> Caspar! *clap* Loves! *clap* Linhardt! *clap* Being *clap* Lazy! *clap* In The *clap* Bedroom! *clap*
> 
> By which I mean, Linhardt is usually a pillow princess, and Caspar loves the fact he gets to do all the work. Ironically, Linhardt is willing to make an effort for Caspar's birthday. Caspar would really rather he didn't. 
> 
> This is a fic I wrote at some point, forgot about, and then cleaned up this evening when I stumbled across it again on accident. Please feel free to point out any grammar mistakes I missed. Hope y'all enjoy.

“Caspar,” Linhardt said with a sigh as Caspar mouthed his way down his neck, “as much as I’m enjoying this, I’d feel remiss if I didn’t remind you that you never answered my question earlier.”

Linhardt’s voice was dry ever, but the strained tone that lay just under the veneer of casualty told Caspar that he wasn’t as unaffected by Caspar’s mouth on his skin as he was pretending to be. Just to be sure, however, nipped at the pale column of Linhardt’s throat again.

Linhardt’s breath hitched. “ _Caspar_.”

That was his exasperated voice, Caspar noted.

He reluctantly sat up, straddling Linhardt’s waist.

“What?” he asked. He licked his bottom lip.

He didn’t miss the way Linhardt’s eyes flickered down to follow the movement, but apparently Linhardt wasn’t going to let himself be distracted from the conversation as Caspar was so willing to be.

Linhardt let out a another sigh. “I asked if you wanted me to do anything for you tonight.”

“You’ve been doing stuff for me all day,” Caspar pointed out. Like, Linhardt had put actual _effort_ into the day. The day’s date was all that kept Caspar from insisting Linhardt see a healer. He still felt weird about it though.

On his own birthday, Linhardt had spent all morning and afternoon dozing and only reluctantly rolled out of bed when Caspar reminded him of everyone waiting to celebrate over dinner. Inevitably, Linhardt had only stayed at the party for an hour or so before wandering off to fish. Caspar found him at the pier shortly thereafter, a shadowy figure by the lake, the silhouette of a fishing rod loosely held in hand.

Linhardt had complained that Caspar’s loud voice scared off the fish. He’d also hummed pleasantly when Caspar rolled his eyes and carried him back home, so Caspar hadn’t felt bad about it. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad day. He even dared to say Linhardt had enjoyed himself.

Today, however, had been the opposite of Linhardt’s lazy birthday bash. Linhardt had willingly— _willingly_ —gotten out of bed when Caspar went out for his morning training. Not happily, mind you, but an awake Linhardt was as good as it got. And he’d woken up fairly early by even the average person’s standards. Caspar would have been impressed by that alone.

But it didn’t end there. Linhardt spent the morning making idle comments while Caspar trained and not falling asleep again despite the way his eyes drooped. After Caspar cleaned himself up, Linhardt smoothly revealed the specially ordered meat pie he’d snuck away to buy the night before in lieu of a birthday cake. _Then_ he indulged Caspar’s wary request for a hike despite the fact Linhardt _hated_ hikes—all form of exercise, really—and he had only complained half as much as he usually did by the time they reached the summit of the hill Caspar wanted to visit. And so on.

The day had been _awesome_ , to say the least. By Linhardt standards, he had practically pampered Caspar all day long, and now he was _still_ asking what he could do for him? Caspar didn’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but he had long since run out of ideas for things he wanted.

Honestly, all he’d wanted to do was spend the day with Linhardt, and they’d done that. Now he wanted to spend the night with Linhardt too.

“As far as I’m aware, it isn’t midnight yet,” Linhardt said. “Until then, it’s still your birthday. You might as well take advantage of my generosity while you can. I assure you that I have exhausted all stores of energy for the year and will be making up for the loss by sleeping for a solid twelve hours tomorrow. Don’t bother trying to get me out of bed before noon.”

Caspar rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”

“Good. So?”

“So what?”

Linhardt gave him a patented Look. “So is there anything special you’d like me to do for you?”

It was rare for Linhardt to repeat anything he said. Linhardt didn’t put much stock in his own birthday, but he must have seriously loved Caspar to indulge him _this_ much today. Caspar couldn’t express in words how lucky he felt. And how seriously strange it was for Linhardt to go above and beyond like this.

He sat back on his haunches. “How am I supposed to know what I want?”

“Really?” Linhardt raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “There isn’t anything that comes to mind?”

“You brought this up out of nowhere!”

“I didn’t. And I find it hard to believe that you’ve lived in this body for twenty-two years to the day, and you don’t have _any_ desires whatsoever that involve another person in your bed.”

The look Linhardt gave him was disbelieving at best.

Caspar squirmed under the weight of his gaze. He was mostly uncomfortable with the incredulity in Linhardt’s voice, but the movement helped to relieve some of the tightness in his underwear too.

Linhardt sighed heavily after a moment of silence. Part of Caspar expected him to roll over and go to bed. Instead, Linhardt took hold of the reins he rarely used and began to run his hands up and down Caspar’s sides. He brushed his thumbs over Caspar’s nipples, lips twitching slightly upwards when he felt Caspar press himself against Linhardt’s palms.

“Come now, Caspar,” he drawled, lowering his voice to that tone that made Caspar’s hearing go hyper-focused and the rest of the world fade away. “Don’t tell me you’ve never touched yourself.”

Caspar felt his cheeks burn. “I—I have!”

Linhardt made a skeptical sound.

“I have!” Caspar protested again. “What’s that got to do with anything though?”

“How else could you experiment and figure out what you like?” Linhardt asked bluntly.

Caspar snorted. “Uh, I’d just _know_?”

“I doubt that,” Linhardt said. He continued before Caspar could protest some more. “Let’s say you do instinctively know everything about yourself, however. That means it should be easy for you to share your secret desires with the class then. Go on, then. I promise not to laugh.”

_“Linhardt,”_ Caspar groaned.

“What? Your fantasies can’t be _that_ bad.” He paused. “Unless they are. I’ll have to take a guess if you won’t give me any hints, though. Hm.” He made a thoughtful sound. “Were you thinking about something involving magic? I’ve heard that ice can be an interesting sensation on the—”

Caspar made a strangled sound.

“—or maybe wax?” Linhardt said as though he hadn’t heard. “I’m sure there are relatively safe candles somewhere around here. Although I will tell you now that I don’t think I’d like to be the one—"

“ _Ugh_ , stop talking!” Caspar said loudly. He felt very warm suddenly, like somebody had lit the fireplace in summer. How could Linhardt say those things with a straight face?

“Gladly,” Linhardt said. “Provided you tell me what you think about when you touch yourself. Unless you’re going to fess up to your inexperience now?”

Okay, okay. Maybe Caspar hadn’t done much… _exploring_ since they had gotten together, but Caspar had definitely— _you know._ Only a handful of times, mind you. Because of morning wood that needed to disappear a little faster or the rare moments he’d actually found himself hot and bothered for some reason. But he had definitely touched himself before! Sheesh. Linhardt acted like they hadn’t touched each other while naked a million times already. What was the difference if Caspar had done it by himself or not?

(In hindsight, those mystery moods in his teenage years where Caspar felt the need to shove a hand down his pants had always happened shortly after Linhardt had done or had said something to trigger what Caspar would very belatedly recognize to be hormones. Linhardt had given him a lot of feelings he didn’t have the words for until later too.)

So, _yes_ , Linhardt, Caspar _did_ have experience, thank you.

Still, those exploratory moments had always been quick. He’d never thought to let his hands linger anywhere that wasn’t obvious. Fantasizing had always taken a backseat to the main goal of getting off. And since he'd been with Linhardt for a good while now, it had been quite a while since Caspar had felt the need for solo time.

He’d always gotten the job done in the end, though, hadn’t he? And it had always felt good while he did too, even if he hadn’t been thinking about anything in particular. So what did any of this matter?

Caspar wasn’t like Linhardt, who had probably taken his time with himself plenty of times before. Linhardt loved experiments and discovery. He had probably "experimentally" fingered himself open before, alone in his room, muffling his heavy breaths into the crook of his arm. He’d probably sighed with contentment when he touched himself just right. He’d probably done it during the war too, before they were together and when Caspar was living just a floor above him, close enough to maybe _hear_ if he’d walked by at just the right time—

Aw, jeez, his underwear felt awfully tight again.

They’d never had a discussion like this before. At least never outright.

There had been one time, near the start of their relationship, when Caspar was still fumbling around and Linhardt had patiently—and sometimes not so patiently—guided Caspar’s hands to where they felt best. He’d taught Caspar exactly how he liked to be touched, and Caspar had laid awake for two weeks straight anxiously wondering where Linhardt had learned all that.

No way was Caspar ever going to ask Linhardt about that time straight out, although it had happened forever ago. Linhardt probably would have no trouble answering, which would be absolute hell. If Caspar asked, he’d be forced to listen to Linhardt explain in that detailed, blunt way of his all the ways he’d learned to get a feel for his own body, and then Caspar would have to lose it, right then and there.

He was close to losing it _now_ from just thinking about it.

Except then he snapped out of his thoughts and saw Linhardt watching the face journey he’d just gone on with apparent amusement, and then Caspar just wanted this whole conversation to be over already.

“Now, now,” Linhardt said, rubbing a circle on Caspar’s hip with his thumb. “Don’t get all embarrassed on me yet. We’re finally getting somewhere.”

“I’m not _embarrassed_!”

Linhardt made a disbelieving sound. “That crack in your voice begs to differ.”

Caspar sputtered. Linhardt reached up with his stupidly long arms and grabbed Caspar by the shoulders, making him lean down for a kiss. Caspar reluctantly didn’t fight him. He was rewarded by Linhardt kissing him the way he liked, easy and slow. It didn’t take long for Caspar to being to relax, melting against Linhardt’s mouth and his chest. It was almost enough to make Caspar forget what they were talking about.

Then Linhardt released him and said, “Despite your complaining when I don’t leave our room by afternoon every day—"

“You’re already so pale!” Caspar shot back without thinking. “A little sun wouldn’t hurt—"

“—and when you claim I’m ‘too blunt’ and make me apologize to strangers for nothing—”

“You have the worst bedside manner in all of Fódlan!”

“—you _do_ tend to accommodate me in almost everything,” Linhardt said, sounding almost _bored_. The nerve of him.

He lightly brushed his thumb over Caspar’s bottom lip and barely faltered when Caspar grabbed his wrist and kissed his pulse point. Caspar, knowing Linhardt was on a tangent and quickly wanting to derail that train of thought before it went somewhere annoying again, kissed his way down Linhardt’s arm and up his shoulder, aiming for Linhardt’s mouth once more.

“I would feel remiss if I did not return the favor every once in a while,” Linhardt said, studiously ignoring him. “I’ll only ask this once more since you plan on being stubborn, however. This is the last gift I’m giving to you before your birthday is officially over. I’m even willing to expend a little energy here, and you won’t catch me doing anything like that come tomorrow. So you might as well take this chance while you have it. I won’t have you whining tomorrow when you regret the missed opportunity.”

Linhardt’s head lolled to the side when he was done, like talking that much had wrung the last of his energy out of him like a towel. He let Caspar nibble on his ear for a moment before pressing against his chest. Caspar sat up.

He felt the rise and fall of Linhardt’s chest under his weight. They locked eyes.

Looking up at him from under long eyelashes, Linhardt asked, “What do want from me?”

“I want _you_ ,” Caspar said. For supposedly having all those brains, he thought Linhardt should have figured this out by now.

He leaned down to kiss him again, only to find Linhardt had tilted his head away at the last second so Caspar found his cheek instead.

“How romantic,” Linhardt said dryly. “And here you have me.”

The unspoken question rested between them. Linhardt had said he wasn’t going to ask again, so Caspar wasn’t waiting for it. But the fact Linhardt avoided kissing him and had gone rather limp on the bed was message enough.

Caspar made totally manly whining sound in his throat. He tried to think of what Linhardt might be looking for, what Caspar wasn’t offering the right way.

“I want _you_ ,” he said again. “And… I want to kiss you?”

He didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but Linhardt made an approving sound.

“And?”

All this questioning was almost enough to ruin the mood. Caspar was beginning to think they could just go to bed without “exerting” themselves after all.

Then he took note of the way Linhardt was spread out underneath him and changed his mind.

“I still don’t get why you’re asking me about this kind of thing,” Caspar said, averting his eyes. Linhardt’s gaze was heavy enough without Caspar meeting it, and he could barely stand the heat in moments like this. It was unfair of Linhardt to tease him so much. “I mean, I get that you’re trying to be nice for my birthday or whatever—which I appreciate, honestly—but…” He shrugged and forced himself to look back down. “Can’t we just do what we always do?”

“If that’s truly what you’d like, I won’t complain,” Linhardt said. “As usual, I have no problem letting you do all the work while I reap the benefits. If you have ever been interested in something besides my general complacency, however, now is the time to mention it.”

Maybe it would have been a nice offer for someone else. That was to say, in another world where Caspar had been less lucky and Linhardt had chosen someone else to spend the rest of his life with, maybe that person would have appreciated Linhardt offering something other than “general complacency,” as he put it. Caspar didn’t like to think about that sort of thing though. Thoughts like that made him feel heavy and out of sorts.

But maybe, in another world, somebody would have liked Linhardt to be a little more active in the bedroom because Linhardt definitely wasn’t. Active, that was. Not naturally, anyway.

Sure, there had been a few pleasantly surprising times where Linhardt had taken the initiative of his own volition—pushing Caspar on his back and climbing on top of him after a particularly long day or sucking him off on the training grounds late at night when nobody else was around to see—but those events had usually been triggered by something out of the ordinary.

The norm for them, by far, was Caspar on top, in control, doing whatever he wanted while Linhardt laid back on the mattress and took it. Linhardt complained when Caspar did things he didn’t like, sure, but he was almost always content not to take the reins himself without special motivation.

It worked for them. Or so Caspar thought.

He wrinkled his nose. “Lin, if I had a problem with how we do things, I would have said so by now.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Linhardt said with a fond chuckle that just made Caspar stare with confusion even harder. “Believe me, I know you’ve never had a problem sharing what’s on your mind.”

“Then why are you being so pushy?”

Linhardt cocked his head. “Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t feel like you’re missing out on something.”

Caspar stared, dumbfounded, while Linhardt patiently waited for a response.

He didn’t know what to tell him. Caspar felt like somebody had wacked him upside the head really hard during a fight, and now his mouth didn’t work properly anymore.

Linhardt’s brains had given cause for marvel plenty of times before, but this was a moment where Caspar was distinctly struck by how much Linhardt didn’t get it. He didn’t get it.

He didn’t get it, and Caspar didn’t know how to explain it to him. Not without sounding like a complete fool, anyway. It had taken their third tumble together before Caspar had _totally confidently_ —no matter what Linhardt said—requested they keep the candles lit next time. How was he supposed to explain this? Especially on such short notice?

He bit the inside of his cheek. How could he explain that there was nothing for Caspar to miss out on? The only way he could have been missing out on something would have been if Linhardt had never been with him at all.

Absently, he licked his lips.

How—How could he explain that he liked Linhardt _always_ , in any way he allowed Caspar to have him, but especially when he was pliant and easygoing under Caspar’s hands? The fact Linhardt _liked_ to lay back and take whatever Caspar offered him, the fact he didn’t protest when Caspar maneuvered him this way or that or felt like turning Linhardt over all of a sudden—in what way he could he say that these were all things Caspar loved him for _because_ of, not in spite of? He wasn’t missing anything.

How was he supposed to describe the way Linhardt made him feel when he let Caspar pick him up or pull him close or yank on his hair without complaining how Caspar chose to get him off?

How could he say _that_ was what turned Caspar on the most? Not—whatever Linhardt expected him to ask for now.

“Lin,” Caspar breathed, letting his eyes obviously roam the pale expanse of Linhardt’s chest under his hands before looking Linhardt in the eye once more. Obviously Linhardt didn’t get it, so he had to be really clear. He needed to put this conversation to rest. “I _promise_ you. You are the only one I’ve ever wanted. I am _not_ missing out on anything. There is nothing else on this earth I want more than you.”

“Oh?” Linhardt looked at him with a curiosity Caspar was well acquainted with seeing. But it was special now, because Caspar didn’t have to share that sharp interest with a book or compete with some obscure theory that only Linhardt found neat. It was just for him. “How so?”

Caspar rolled his lower lip between his teeth, thinking hard. ‘How so,’ what? Was he still asking how Caspar wanted him?

And Linhardt had the audacity to call _Caspar_ the hardheaded one.

“There is nothing else on this earth I want more than you because…” He cupped Linhardt’s cheeks and stared at him hard, trying to buy himself time to arrange the words the right way. To make them less clumsy on his tongue. To make them important, like every word that left Linhardt’s mouth seemed to be. “Because you’re already too good for me.”

Linhardt grabbed his wrists and frowned. That didn’t seem to be what he expected to hear. “Caspar, you can’t believe that.”

“It’s true!” Caspar protested. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you. Even when all the other kids said you acted too stuck up to play with them, you let me hang around.”

“You were too loud,” Linhardt teased. “You never heard me tell you to go away.” His fingers flexed around Caspar’s wrist. “And I never would have told you to leave anyway. You were the only one who put up with me.”

Caspar sent him a lopsided smile. “Sure. And you were too busy being exhausted by the inconvenience of being born to have time for anyone else anyway. But you always had time for me. So I count myself lucky for that. And doubly lucky you decided to let me stick around this far into adulthood.”

“When did you become so sappy?” Linhardt groaned and let his arms flop to his sides. “If I had known you’d talk like this, I would have kept my mouth shut.”

Caspar rolled his eyes. “Be quiet and let me finish. You were the one who wanted to hear me talk in the first place.”

“A mistake on my part, clearly.”

Caspar shoved at Linhardt’s face—gently, of course—and let him go. With want for something to do with his hands, Caspar laid them on Linhardt’s chest again.

“I’m lucky because I get to spend every day with you,” he said. “I’m lucky because you care about what I want, even if you don’t listen when I tell you that I’m fine with what we have.”

Linhardt made a face, so Caspar made one back.

“ _And_ ,” he continued before Linhardt could derail the conversation again, “I’m lucky because I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this.”

Linhardt shifted under him, impatient, so Caspar took that as his cue to heat things up again. The moment had softened in more ways than one.

They kissed again. This time Linhardt didn’t turn away; he met Caspar head-on and let Caspar push him back against the sheets, fingers tangling in Linhardt’s hair. Caspar really liked how long it had gotten over the years. It felt so nice in his hands.

Linhardt slid his arms around Caspar’s neck as their lips glided over one another’s, the barest hint of tongue making an appearance. Caspar’s eyes had slid shut. He found himself getting lost in the sensation of Linhardt under him, the knowledge _he_ was the thing boxing Linhardt in, keeping him close, and that Linhardt let him.

He wasn’t very hard anymore, and neither was Linhardt. But that was nothing a little time and energy wouldn’t fix, even if Linhardt was generally opposed to those concepts on principal. Caspar would ensure Linhardt would have nothing to complain about this time. He’d be the one doing all the work, just how they both liked it.

When he pulled back for air, he found Linhardt looking at him, eyes half-lidded and dark with familiar desire. Caspar wished he had the artistic skills to capture that expression forever. He didn’t, though, so he just tried really hard to memorize the smooth curve of Linhardt’s face.

“See?” He spread his fingers over Linhardt’s chest and relished the beat of Linhardt’s heart under his palm. “You’re gorgeous, Lin. You’re making me go crazy just from _looking_ at you.”

Linhardt sucked in a breath just on the wrong side of too sharp to be normal. “Now _that’s_ what I was looking for.”

“What you were…”

Realization dawned on him. Caspar scowled and tried to sit up again, only for Linhardt to trap him in place with his arms around Caspar’s shoulders. Caspar could have broken free if he really wanted. He settled for glaring down at Linhardt instead.

“Was this whole thing a trap?” he asked.

“A trap?” Linhardt echoed. The amused curve of his lips gave him away.

Caspar knew that expression too well by now. He groaned.

“No wonder you were so pushy,” he moaned, hanging his head. “You weren’t asking for _me_. You just want me to say all that mushy stuff and praise you out loud!”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Clearly Linhardt didn’t think so. “If you actually had some secret desire you’d been keeping from me, I would have been open to it.”

“But you know I don’t!”

“Hypothetically, you could have,” Linhardt said. “And in any case, I get something out of it too. That’s a win-win.”

“You!” Caspar didn’t know whether to be exasperated or unsurprised. This was so— _Linhardt_. “You!”

“It’s not like I ever lied,” Linhardt said, “so you can’t blame me for deceiving you. I was serious about my offer. You were the one who decided to get _romantic_ with it.”

He said the word "romantic" like it tasted bad in his mouth. How did he expect Caspar to praise him without getting romantic about it though?

Caspar groaned again. “I can’t trust you at all.”

Linhardt had the gall to look _affronted_.

In the end, Caspar couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

Linhardt clearly hadn’t been expecting that reaction either. The defensive features of his face melted into surprise when Caspar swooped down and kissed him again with more giddiness than real skill.

“What’s all this?” Linhardt asked when Caspar moved down and pressed his nose into the crook of Linhardt’s neck, shoulders still jumping with laughter. “I thought you were going to fuss at me some more.”

Caspar took a deep breath. Linhardt’s scent was faint as it had always been, but it was still familiar. Sweet. “I was. For, like, half a second.”

Linhardt carded his fingers through Caspar’s short hair. Caspar shivered at the sensation of Linhardt’s short nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“I really love you, you know that?” Caspar kissed the side of Linhardt’s neck again, then tilted his head to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Even when you’re being sneaky and unfair. I really, really love you.”

“I’m aware.” Despite the blasé words, Linhardt sounded content. “I love you too, as I’m sure you also know.”

“You know what else I love?”

“What would that be?”

Caspar slid his hand down, down, down, until he found the space between Linhardt’s legs that he was looking for and palmed it gently.

Linhardt jerked under him with a gasp.

“I love it,” Caspar said, lowering his voice in a surge of boldness, “when you let me touch you all over.”

He rubbed the bulge in Linhardt’s sleepwear and felt Linhardt rock into his hand in return.

“What are you waiting for then?” Linhardt asked, still mostly put together. Caspar would change that soon. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Caspar pressed his lips against Linhardt’s throat again, this time sucking with more vigor. He nipped Linhardt’s skin in a way he knew would leave bruises to admire in the morning. Caspar shivered in anticipation of those dark spots, remembering how good Linhardt had looked last time with the shape of Caspar’s lips etched into his shoulder.

Linhardt hadn’t been built for fighting or pain, but he wore the marks Caspar gave him the same way Caspar bore his scars: like a trophy.

It didn’t take long for Linhardt to grow hard under Caspar’s attention. The unending barrage of sucking kisses along his neck, jaw, and chest combined with the constant pressure Caspar kept between his legs was enough to do the trick. By his own standards, he hadn’t been rough with Linhardt yet, but he hadn’t let up either.

Between the gasps that left Linhardt’s throat and the way he eagerly leaned into Caspar’s touch, Caspar wasn’t ashamed to say it didn’t take long for him to get hard too.

After several minutes, he found himself rutting against Linhardt’s thigh and considering the benefits of getting them both off just like that—just humping each other like they were grateful to be alive after a battle again and didn’t have anything to do but keep quiet in their tents. After how long the evening had worn on already, Caspar wasn’t sure if he had the patience for much more than that.

Linhardt, however, had other plans.

“You can get on with it any time,” he said, the hitch in his breath giving his cool facade away. Caspar’s gaze zeroed in on the way Linhardt’s hair had spread out around his head in a ruffled halo.

Caspar nibbled at his collarbone. “You sure? I could just…”

He dragged his hips against Linhardt’s like a rolling wave and savored the way Linhardt let his eyes fall shut in pleasure.

“Do it,” Linhardt breathed, although he sounded reluctant to stop for even a moment. So Caspar got on with it.

He hooked his fingers into Linhardt’s loose pants. Linhardt lifted his hips. He pulled down, freeing Linhardt from the confines of his clothes, and threw the unneeded garments into the corner.

When he looked back, he found Linhardt grabbing the bottle of oil they kept under one of the pillows. The sight of Linhardt entirely naked made Caspar ache with want.

Linhardt uncorked the bottle.

“Your turn,” he said.

Caspar reluctantly climbed off Linhardt just long enough to shed his own underwear and then quickly climbed back on top. By then, Linhardt had already poured some oil on his hand and set the bottle aside.

“ _Oh_.” Caspar felt like he’d been punched in the chest when Linhardt wrapped his slick fingers around him and tugged. He curled his fingers into the sheets on either side of Linhardt’s head, heat gathering low in his stomach. “Sh— _Lin_.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Linhardt said. His gaze lingered on the hardness between Caspar’s legs, and he swallowed. “You still have to take care of me, remember?”

“I-I know,” Caspar managed to say. He rolled his hips in Linhardt’s grasp, a jolt of new pleasure shooting up his spine as Linhardt thumbed his head. “That’s my favorite part. I never forget.”

Linhardt finally lifted his gaze. Caspar saved him from having to answer by giving him a quick kiss.

“No,” Linhardt said thoughtfully when they parted. “You never do.”

Caspar tried to make himself useful by snatching the oil off the bedside table, pouring a little on his hand, and giving Linhardt’s cock a few slick pulls as well. The shaky breath Linhardt let out when Caspar touched him made his head spin. He could have lived in this moment forever.

They hadn’t been jerking each other off for very long before Linhardt released him against Caspar's whimpered protest. He took Caspar’s slick hand in his own and guided it further down between his legs.

“Okay, okay,” Caspar said, relenting.

Linhardt sure was eager tonight, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t ready for it either, so he didn’t complain. He hooked one of Linhardt’s legs over his shoulder and left streaks of oil in the shape of his fingers on Linhardt’s thighs in his wake.

Linhardt watched him pour more oil on his hands with hungry eyes. When Caspar pressed his finger inside Linhardt’s hole, however, he found himself pausing.

“Oh.” Caspar blinked. “You…”

“After dinner,” Linhardt supplied, sounding like he’d been waiting for Caspar to notice how loose he’d been this whole time. “I got myself ready.”

Which boggled Caspar’s mind a little because Linhardt didn’t _like_ to get himself ready. He complained that it was too messy and didn’t have the immediate reward of Caspar there to kiss and praise and make the work feel less like, well, _work_. Caspar almost always did it for him. Except for this time, it seemed.

His cock throbbed. He remembered how Linhardt had excused himself to take a bath after they’d gotten back from hiking. Caspar had washed the dishes without giving it much thought, totally oblivious to the way he now knew Linhardt must have been touching himself in the bathroom in the meantime.

In his mind’s eye, he saw them simultaneously: himself by the sink, totally unaware, while Linhardt sat in the tub, legs spread, head thrown back as he fingered himself open in preparation for what was to come.

Caspar swallowed dryly. “Right. Good work.”

Linhardt gave him a smug look that said he knew what was running through Caspar’s mind. He let Caspar kiss him without complaint.

It was a sloppy kiss made messier by Caspar’s fraying restraint. He rutted against Linhardt’s thigh again, the imagery of Linhardt preparing himself for Caspar’s cock still bouncing around in his head, impossible to ignore. The golden question of how Linhardt liked to touch himself and how he had discovered such knowledge surfaced from the depths of his mind once more.

Linhardt was loose enough already, but Caspar fingered him while they kissed anyway, taking pleasure in the feel of Linhardt flexing around him whenever Caspar found a particularly sweet spot inside him. Two fingers fit inside him easily. Caspar added at third and groaned into Linhardt’s mouth.

Fuck.

They pulled apart with a wet smack. Caspar placed a heavy kiss against Linhardt’s forehead, absolutely loving the way he was practically bending Linhardt in half with his weight.

Linhardt’s long legs hooked over his shoulders, his body so accommodating, the way he welcomed Caspar between his thighs—

“Caspar,” Linhardt gasped when Caspar removed his fingers.

“I love you.” Caspar pressed his nose against Linhardt’s hair and shivered as he felt Linhardt squirm against him with want. “I love you, I love you, it’s crazy how much I love you—”

“ _Caspar_ ,” Linhardt said again, exasperated. “Get inside me already. Please.”

Caspar groaned, barely holding himself together. He took himself in hand and lined himself up without pressing in.

Linhardt, eyes half lidded, made an impatient sound. He was a beautiful, disheveled sight. Even as his whole body thrummed with need, Caspar couldn’t suppress his grin.

“You asked me what I wanted, and I told you.” He swallowed, trying to contain himself. It was hard. “Like this. Just for me. Nobody else.”

Linhardt tapped his heel against Caspar’s back. “Caspar.”

He laughed. “You’re so needy.”

As expected, Linhardt didn’t say anything else. He made a low sound, eyes falling shut, and Caspar could have stared forever. Linhardt had gone almost totally still with anticipation. The air was thick between them.

Wasn’t there a word for how Linhardt acted in bed? Something Caspar had had heard from Dorothea before—a whatever-princess? However she had described him, it had been accurate. He’d never really cared about things like that. Linhardt had been more active tonight than usual, but there was a reason the usual way was—well, _usual._

Caspar kissed his chest.

“I love you,” he said, pressing inside.

Linhardt practically turned to jelly as Caspar sank into him. He fell back against the sheets, limp, lips parted, like Caspar’s cock splitting him open had totally wrecked his world.

It was a sight Caspar was familiar with and one he was proudest to see.

He kept a hold on himself long enough to bottom out, although that was easier to say than do with Linhardt’s tight heat clenching around him. It felt good to be inside him, he had to admit, but it felt even better when Caspar pulled halfway out and quickly thrusted back in. The first smack of skin again skin made the temperature in the room jump another ten degrees.

Linhardt gasped. Caspar thrusted into him again, harder this time. He didn’t stop.

It was easy to build a rhythm, easier still to get lost in the feel of Linhardt’s tight heat and the choked sounds he made every time Caspar hit just the right spot. Caspar tried to resist falling in too deep, too quickly. He didn’t want this to be over too quickly. Even if it was _really_ tempting.

“Yeah, just like that,” he murmured, keeping a hand on Linhardt’s hip to keep his legs from slipping off Caspar’s shoulders. “So good for me.”

He kissed the side of Linhardt’s knee and felt Linhardt’s muscle jump under the skin there.

Caspar flexed his fingers, and Linhardt groaned. His cock bobbed between his legs with every thrust, looking flush and full despite the fact he wasn’t even touching himself.

Linhardt felt so pliant, so _good_. Caspar had to make sure Linhardt knew that, the fevered part of his brain whispered. He found himself opening his mouth without a plan of what to say.

“Linhardt, you—you feel—”

“ _Caspar_ ,” Linhardt whined, eyes still shut. His neck was pale and inviting. Caspar swallowed the rest of his unfinished words—and nearly his tongue—while looking at him.

It wasn’t a moment longer before Caspar found himself teetering on the precipice of orgasm. He quickly pulled out of Linhardt and grabbed the base of his cock to keep from coming, wincing a little at the pain.

Linhardt made a dissatisfied sound at the abruptness of it, but he was all jelly when Caspar flipped him over onto his front and slid into him from behind, loosely fingering the sheets and groaning as he was filled once more.

Caspar brushed Linhardt’s long hair over his shoulder so he could stare at the milky expanse of Linhardt’s back without obstacle, only briefly marveling at the silkiness. He kissed Linhardt between the shoulder blades.

Then he slowly began to fuck him again, the new angle making Linhardt squirm against the mattress. His face was practically hidden in the pillow while Caspar rubbed his hips against Linhardt’s ass, barely moving despite the temptation to go harder, faster, to take and give without abandon.

Linhardt made a breathy sound. Caspar chuckled, grinding against Linhardt’s ass again. Linhardt’s ignored cock was probably trapped between his stomach and the sheets. Caspar imagined how achingly pleasurable and painful it must have felt every time he forced Linhardt to rock against the mattress. He didn’t torture Linhardt for long though.

“Come on, up,” he said, tugging at Linhardt’s waist.

Looking each other in the eye while they did it had its own merits, but he knew Linhardt liked it from this angle too.

He was briefly surprised when Linhardt voluntarily pulled his knees under himself and lifted his hips off the bed. Another birthday present, then. Usually Caspar had to do most of the maneuvering himself, holding up Linhardt’s weight along with his own. Which he also liked, to be fair—although it could get pretty tricky sometimes.

He couldn’t help but laugh again. “Aw, you’re still spoiling me!”

Linhardt grunted into pillow, pressing his rear against Caspar’s front. “Don’t get used to it.” He threw some of the hair that had fallen into his eyes over his other shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

Caspar got the hint. He didn’t bother with a reply; he was still too close to losing it again.

Hands firm on Linhardt’s hips, he began to thrust earnestly and without warning. Linhardt gasped at the sudden change in pressure. It took only a second before he’d gone boneless with want again, and Caspar was forced to hold Linhardt’s hips in place while he fucked him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room once more. Caspar had worked his way up to a brutal pace within seconds. He didn’t slow. The brief reprieve had lessened some of the pressure between his legs, but it returned in an instant. It was sheer force of will that prevented Caspar from spilling inside Linhard instantly. He thrust in and out of Linhardt with abandon, intent on ensuring Linhardt got what he needed first.

“There.” Linhardt breathed in sharply. “Right—Right there. _Ah!_ ” He flexed around Caspar’s cock and barely seemed to notice when Caspar dug his fingers into his hips. Voice strained, Linhardt gasped, “I need…”

“I know,” Caspar rasped when Linhardt didn’t finish. He could barely retain enough focus to speak. It was hard to pay attention to anything other than the need to make Linhardt feel even half the pleasure he was feeling.

With string-thin restraint, he managed to pry one hand off Linhardt’s waist and reach between his legs. “Come on, hold yourself up a little. That’s it. I’m going to take care of you.”

Linhardt whimpered, just shy of pained, when Caspar loosely wrapped his fingers around Linhardt’s length and began jerking him off in time with his thrusts. It was a sound that went straight to Caspar’s cock.

“Goddess, Lin, you—" Caspar shook his head and blinked some of the sweat out of his eyes. It had gotten fairly steamy in their bedroom without his noticing. “You always let me do whatever I want with you. You’re so—”

His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. Goddess, he could barely speak.

Linhardt was like a piece of artwork, except he let Caspar’s hands run all over him however he wanted. It was Caspar who he trusted to kiss him and toss him around and finger him open and—

The sound Caspar made surprised even himself. Thoughts swirling and the need for _more_ thrumming in his veins, he released Linhardt’s hips with his other hand and threw his arm around Linhardt’s torso instead. He yanked them both upright so even Linhardt was forced to his knees, his back against Caspar’s chest.

Linhardt made a startled noise but didn’t fight it the shift. His head lolled back against Caspar’s shoulder as Caspar continued to fuck him at this new angle, fingers moving hard and fast around Linhardt’s cock. Caspar took the opportunity to suck a fresh bruise against the column of Linhardt’s throat.

When he was done, he managed to cajole Linhardt into kissing him, although the angle was awkward. The feel of Linhardt’s lips against his while they were pressed so close together made Caspar’s chest and balls tighten. He didn’t have long.

“Lin,” he gasped in Linhardt’s ear. He couldn’t manage much more. “ _Linhardt_.”

He gave Linhardt’s cock a good squeeze, making them both gasp from the way Linhardt clutched around him. Caspar still had an arm wrapped around Linhardt’s torso to keep him from falling over. Linhardt laced their fingers together and gripped his hand tightly. Their breaths were labored.

“Linhardt,” he said again.

“I—I’m close,” Linhardt panted.

So was Caspar. In the back of his mind, barely audible over the increasingly staccato rhythm of their hips, he heard Linhardt’s voice asking him, again, what he wanted.

He still didn’t have an answer.

There were too many choices, so little time, and Caspar _wanted_. He wanted to fuck Linhardt in front of a mirror and he wanted to suck Linhardt off and he wanted to go slow even though going fast felt _really_ good and he wanted Linhardt to ride him even though he almost never did and he wanted Linhardt to finger himself while Caspar watched and he wanted—

Linhardt made a desperate sound. “ _Caspar_.”

“I’ve got you,” Caspar wheezed. He snapped his hips against Linhardt’s ass again and again, increasingly off rhythm. “I’ve got you. Always. I’ve got you. You can—Anytime—”

“You first.” Linhardt’s eyes had fallen shut again. “Inside.”

At that one word—“ _inside_ ”—Caspar felt not just a preemptive wave of pleasure but also saw a mental flash of later—of cleaning Linhardt up in a few minutes, still pliant but probably more sticky. Of washing them both up, maybe even taking Linhardt to the bath again—taking care of him like Caspar had promised he would, both in and out of the bedroom—

Caspar cried out when he came. He couldn’t stop himself. Linhardt tensed up at the sound, maybe surprised at his intensity, and Caspar couldn’t help but freeze for a moment, too sensitive to fight against such heat and pressure, too caught up in the euphoria of releasing pulse after pulse inside Linhardt and feeling Linhardt writhe against him for it, for more, for movement.

Then he remembered that Linhardt still hadn’t finished. Stamina waning, he couldn’t thrust as fast as before, but he still tried to angle himself the way he knew Linhardt liked, searching for that place that made him feel the best. He thumbed the head of Linhardt’s cock again and again as he jerked him off and pressed his lips against the side of Linhardt’s neck, mouthing at the skin more so than giving it a proper kiss. Receding waves of pleasure were still rolling through Caspar as he did so. He tried his best not to let that distract him, although it was hard when he felt so good. He wanted—needed—Linhardt to feel good too.

With a whine, Linhardt reached back and dug his fingers into Caspar’s hair. Caspar bit the juncture of his shoulder without thinking.

Linhardt came.

It was almost soundless. A quiet whimper was all the warning Caspar received before Linhardt shuddered, near silent, clenching around him so tightly Caspar saw stars. His hand grew wet and warm. His fist slowed around Linhardt’s cock, but he didn’t stop until Linhardt had almost completely gone soft in his hand.

By the time they were both finished, Linhardt’s knees had completely given out. Caspar had expected this; he was already the one holding them both mostly upright.

“Shh,” Caspar said softly, although Linhardt wasn’t saying anything. He almost never spoke after he came. Like Caspar had literally drained all the coherency out of him.

He gently lowered Linhardt onto the bed and laid himself on top of him, careful with his weight. They were still connected. He rubbed circles into Linhardt’s hip and relished the feel of sitting inside him, although he’d grown mostly soft. Linhardt sighed with contentment, eyes closed.

After a few minutes of silence and catching their breaths, Caspar knew Linhardt was getting ready to complain about how dirty he felt. So Caspar slipped out of him and only appreciated the sight of his spend dripping out of Linhardt for a moment before mustering up the strength to turn Linhardt over and pick him up. He was still tired, but he figured he’d get his strength back with another bath. They needed it.

The first time Caspar had done this, he’d felt a dumb and awkward carrying Linhardt while they were both naked despite the privacy of their own living space. Linhardt had let it happen, however, much like he let it happen now. He wrapped his arms around Caspar’s neck much like the way he did back then, albeit with less poking fun at Caspar’s fumbling mannerisms. Caspar knew what he was doing now, after all.

He kissed Linhardt’s forehead and felt his heart swell with the weight of Linhardt in his arms.

“So,” Linhardt mumbled against his neck, already halfway to dreamland, “did you enjoy your birthday?”

Caspar could have rolled his eyes at how obvious the answer was. He kicked the bathroom door open instead. “Of course I did! Thanks for putting in all that work for me, by the way.”

“Hm.” Linhardt buried his face a little further into Caspar’s neck. “Don’t get used to it.”

Like Caspar would have wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still figuring out how sex works, lmao. This is one of those practice works I do every now and again to see if I ever get any better. But you will never deny me pillow princess Linhardt and Caspar adoring him for it. It's like a pride thing for him. Linhardt still puts in a tiny bit more work than usual here though. He goes back to being zero (0) help in the bedroom the next day. 
> 
> Lin wants Caspar to use his words throughout this fic, but to Caspar, actions are always louder, so that's how it ends up.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)


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